


Pathways

by CarthagoDelenda



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Between A and A+ Support, Canon Compliant, Crimson Flower, Denial, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Black Eagles Route, Internal Monologue, Love Letters, Lovesickness, M/M, Romantic Angst, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:21:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25659649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarthagoDelenda/pseuds/CarthagoDelenda
Summary: Hubert is very much not overthinking a passing comment that means nothing to him. It is in no way driving him to draft strange letters, and he certainly isn't in any distress over what his thoughts and feelings have become.
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 6
Kudos: 108





	Pathways

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone! This was put together as my submission to the Coffee, Tea, & Maybe Me Hubert/Ferdinand zine, which you can find at @FerbieZine on twitter!
> 
> This takes place immediately after the end of Hubert and Ferdinand's A support, and ends just before the A+ support begins. I've always wanted to examine the thoughts running through Hubert's mind in the time between the two, because boy he must have had some delicious romantic angst.
> 
> It was condensed a bit to fit the word limit, but I would LOOOOOVE at some point to expand further on this relationship and its psychology. I certainly hope I can someday. Enjoy, one and all!

It wasn’t until Hubert was far from the dining hall that the full weight of Ferdinand’s words hit him.

He was on the stairs to his room when he stopped short, missed a step, then stumbled and braced himself against the wall. He tried to keep his focus on his balance, and willed the world to let this pass unnoticed. _A letter_ , he thought instead. _A letter. A letter?!_

Just moments ago he’d been able to meet those words with a measured response, as if the request Ferdinand had made was natural, or normal. He should have forgotten it afterwards, like any other pointless conversation. What had made the difference this time? Was it something in Ferdinand's face, or his tone? Or something in Hubert himself that had broken and shifted?

_At least put it in a letter next time._

Had Ferdinand thought of their meeting as a performance review of some kind? If he could be sure of that, then he wouldn’t be in this state. But he didn't know what else it could be. Had Ferdinand been mocking him? Testing his temper to see how far it could go before he snapped? Finding a way to one-up him, much in the same way he disrespected Lady Edelgard...?

His face grew hot with rage, and he willed himself to keep walking before anyone could see him. For all anyone knew, he had not slowed his step at all. Or had a single out-of-place thought about his afternoon coffee, in which he’d had a pleasant conversation with Ferdinand and given him a frank assessment of his merits.

===

It was harder than he had thought to make himself forget.

For a time he thought Ferdinand’s proximity was the problem, so he made it his mission to avoid him, keeping their interactions confined to the war councils. He made a point of leaving the room when Ferdinand walked in, or meeting his smiles and well-mannered greetings with a swift excuse and a brush of his cloak.

But the faint impressions that he took on in these moments stayed with him even when Ferdinand was out of sight. It infuriated Hubert to have that image where it didn’t belong - to think of him watching his retreat with a smug bravado, which could fade to confusion and concern if Hubert didn’t turn his head away fast enough.

This would always raise in him the questions he didn’t want to ask. _What did you mean, write it in a letter next time?_ he thought. _Why would putting my words in a letter make a difference? Do you expect me to compliment you again?_

The war councils were the worst, because then he couldn’t look away. No matter how easily he could busy himself with matters of state, he could never shake the feeling that Ferdinand was trying to catch his eye, or couching some hidden meaning in his words. Was he really just debating his views on troop movements, or was there something deeper in his pointed quips or out-of-place personal comments?

It was the worst possible place to catch himself up in those thoughts, especially with the eyes of his liege lord, professor, and comrades-in-arms on him. Over the next month he would catch himself missing calls for his input, or making incredibly simple misjudgements. All easily corrected, but entirely uncharacteristic.

Linhardt was the first to comment, catching Hubert after one meeting or another and telling him that he thought he was done with collapsing on the ground from overwork, and that next time he found him like that he would probably assume it was normal and none of his business. Dorothea was next, telling him that he seemed “distracted,” with a pointedness in her words that told him she had already made up her mind about what was going on. 

And Lady Edelgard... she was never one to keep silent, and she was direct as she knew he preferred. “I know the dangers of distractions well enough,” she said one night, after the others had left. “Neither you nor I are immune to them, no matter what kind of face we try to put on for others.” 

She’d looked him in the eye then, imposing above and beyond her stature. “But neither of us should be so occupied that we lose sight of our goals. Do you understand, Hubert?”

He did, and he told her as such. Not once did she ask him for details, and that was just what he preferred. They parted from each other shortly afterwards, and Hubert made his way off the main monastery grounds, checking often over his shoulder for any sign of Ferdinand behind him. 

===

That same night, after hours spent tossing and turning, Hubert rose from his bed at around one o’clock and sat himself at his writing desk. 

The paper and pen were already laid out. He’d been writing earlier, something much more important. He could see the impressions of his hard-pressed words in the middle of the top sheet. _Don’t leave a single one unaccounted for,_ it said. _The Empire will remember that it was you who cleared a path for us._

He filled his pen and hovered it over this indentation, then placed it down, folded the paper, and set it aside. Then, he started fresh on the next page.

_Dear Ferdinand,_

He stopped and crumpled the page. _Dear._ What a thoughtless salutation. As if he would spare that much emotion for anyone, much less -

He stopped the thought in its tracks and tried again. _To Ferdinand von Aegir,_ he wrote, _head of house Aegir and advisor to Emperor Edelgard -_

No, that was too far in the other direction. He crumpled the paper again. If he and Ferdinand had only met in passing, then that address would be appropriate. As it was they had hated each other, and strongly. But there was no distance in their relationship that would require something so formal...

 _Ferdinand,_ he wrote, then continued to the next line. _You told me you no longer wish to hear me speak to your merits, so as you have requested I have prepared a letter. I confess I do not know what you wish for me to say about you, apart from what I have already conveyed._

He stopped, took a breath, and continued on. _Perhaps you wish for more details about the value of your perspective, as I have witnessed it. But do you not already know them yourself? Lady Edelgard’s judgement of your value should matter far more to you than mine. Is it so vital to you, to read your strategic accomplishments in my own words? What more could I add that either of you do not already know?_

His face burned as he wrote with more ferocity. _Perhaps you think me callous, or difficult to impress. You would be correct, but I cannot dismiss your advantages, as I have before conveyed. In fact, your talents have corrected a number of false beliefs I had held about the value of your methods, your personality and... indeed, your very being._

_Your aims for greatness are not wholly selfish; they drive you to greater competency, and inspire the same in others. Your moral core does not mask greed or corruption; instead you are earnest to the point of disbelief. And as an advisor you do not challenge Lady Edelgard's authority, as I once thought. You are forging a connection, striving to understand her, and correcting her mistakes as much as she guides your judgement..._

_So what shall I do with this knowledge?_

He had thought of that sentence, not intending to write it down, but before he realized it there it was at the end of the page’s writing. He knew the answer - that he did not know - but would he truly admit such a thing? In a letter Ferdinand would _see_?

No, Ferdinand could never see this letter. It was far too simpering, entirely out of line with the image Hubert had cultivated for himself. He could barely believe it _of_ himself, that he could inject this matter of course with a passion he had no reason for.

He tried to think of something he still hated about Ferdinand. He smiled too much, that was one thing, with too many teeth and a warmth had had no place in a war camp. His armor was too clean, a sign of skewed priorities, and he spoke, constantly, in an unending stream of frivolous nonsense. And his hair… _unbelievably_ stupid. Did he think himself some kind of fabled hero, with his poetic flowing locks...?

His hair... with Ferdinand's in mind, he reached up to touch his own. Almost all his life he’d let it grow wild and strange, only cutting it when it fell past his shoulders. He'd quite liked how it made people clench their teeth as they looked at him. But that had changed when he met Dorothea again and she, on looking at him, said she couldn’t stand to see him looking like an “unkempt teenager” and took a pocket dagger to the back of his head. Why she’d done this was as much a mystery as why he’d let her finish once she’d started. But afterwards he looked… better. He even looked _good_ , which was not something he had ever thought about himself. 

Over time he had refined this feeling into something he could use. He was still vile, he thought, and cruel-faced, and unattractive. But Dorothea’s attack on his hair had lent him a sense of balanced authority, one that reminded him that he would not just be a weapon at Lady Edelgard’s disposal, but an advisor and architect of the new world she would create. 

It was one of the few things in the past five years that hadn’t gone according to plan. Killing his father had been easier for him than looking himself in the mirror. But it was only a detour, in the grand scheme of things. He had not strayed from his path, not really, since he was six years old. And the only obstacles he planned to meet there were his enemies, who would not find anything in that dark and twisting bramble except their deaths. 

He had never felt the need for intimate companionship, and much less for baser things like _love_ and _marriage_. He’d won countless battles by shifting a pretty face in front of the right vulnerable eyes, and it was because he knew this power that he had wanted no part of it. He hated the thought of exposing himself in ways no one had any business with, much less intentionally showing that kind of weakness.

Not even to Lady Edelgard, he’d realized one day. So many of his allies thought he coveted her – as if he was _remotely_ worthy of her hand, much less her affection. He’d be even less so if he _debased_ himself with all those things men did when they were in love. His skin burned with rage as he imagined the many ways a lovelorn fool could destroy her vision, just for a moment before he could bury it…

_At least put it in a letter next time._

His face contorted, his anger sunk by embarrassment. Why had he written this letter at all? He could have kept this to himself, and buried the thoughts on his own. What did it matter to him if Ferdinand knew his advantages? He had a high enough opinion of himself that he did not remotely deserve. A basis for his pride was the last thing he needed.

But…all of it was true, he thought. He had been right. And more than that he’d _wanted_ Ferdinand to know it. His words had fallen out of him that day, unsecured, and when he’d spoken Ferdinand had been so surprised, and so pleased. 

“ _You are constantly striving to grow as a person,”_ he’d told him. _“To seek new knowledge, to push new limits. When others get distracted or abandon their path, you never yield…”_

A hot feeling filled his stomach, and with a swift motion he crushed the letter against the side of the writing desk. Then he took his entire stock of paper, pushed it across the floor, and threw his pen hard into the wall, where it stained the woodwork with a streak of ink before it fell to the ground.

===

Hubert did not know what love or affection were supposed to look like. He did not even know if what he was feeling _was_ love. If it was, he had some choice words for himself. Mockery, mostly, followed by active scorn.

But still... his path was supposed to reach an end, if not with his death then with the unification of Fódlan and ostensible peace. He had devoted his life to Lady Edelgard’s aims, but had not given a single thought to what he might do with himself afterwards - or what part of humanity he could join, should he live to. But his subconscious, it seemed, had done this work for him. And in resisting he had only made his path to success more difficult. 

He'd kept the imported tea he bought in his quarters for over a week. On some nights he'd tuck it into his pocket and make his way to Ferdinand’s door, lingering until he lost his nerve and left. But today he was carrying it on his person, in an effort to get it over with should Ferdinand cross his path. 

He need not make a big deal of it, he thought. He could pass it off as nothing important, just a curiosity he'd found in the market. Then he would think nothing more of it, and certainly not wonder what he might think of such a gift, or of Hubert for considering it. 

===

When he did find Ferdinand, the scent of Dagdan coffee came ahead of him. 

From his place behind the dormitory wall, Hubert found himself with the first proper look he’d had at Ferdinand in weeks. Despite himself he marveled at the setting sun caught in the waves of his hair, and the inquisitive look in his eyes as they scanned the monastery green. 

If he stepped ahead, then surely Ferdinand would see him, and start a conversation. And then he would have no choice but to reveal what he was carrying. _And so would Ferdinand,_ he thought.

It was his last chance to flee, to shut out a future that he did not want to admit terrified him. But in the few seconds he had to make the decision, he thought of how much more terrifying it would be to run, and face that future without a passionate and experienced guide. He had so much more to learn, and in order to do so he would have to mold this path around an unforeseen risk. 

For now, this was a feeling he could let himself feel, he thought as he stepped forward.


End file.
